


Smug little smile

by cruentum



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, douche is as douche does, sexy though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-23
Updated: 2012-06-23
Packaged: 2017-11-08 09:45:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/441863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cruentum/pseuds/cruentum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Someone's got to be there to put Jackson back together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Smug little smile

The stereo was blaring music through the open doors of the pick-up. Danny wandered in closer, hands in his pocket leaned against the bumper. Off, past the circle of lights from the field, Jackson was exerting his demons - or just working his body, it was hard to tell with him sometimes.

Jackson swivelled around though, almost with foam at his mouth as he spotted Danny. Chest heaving, Lacrosse stick in hand, his eyes were too wide and the twist of his lips too hard to sound off with the same, normal arrogance as he said, "I didn't request your presence." He stalked across, sweat soaking through his shirt under his arms and beading his forehead. "You better not be scratching that paintwork."

Danny just watched him gulp some water, jaw tensing as he seemed to fight for control over himself. Any moment now he'd deck him or start bawling like a baby but Jackson did neither, only smiled and leaned against the car next to Danny, pushing whatever was going on in his head into its own little box.

"Practicing?" Danny asked.

"Do you really think I need the practice?" Jackson huffed. "Please." He laughed. It rang out loud and hard over the sound of the pop music.

Danny wanted to wreck that smug little face, and then peel off the layers and get at what was underneath (after a fuck though, Jackson looked glorious when he came, completely unapologetic as he writhed on the bed and performed for his audience -- any audience would do, apparently). 

Shoulders tense, fingers white where they curled around the side of the van, Jackson looked like he was flying apart underneath there.

Danny leaned in and pressed his lips to Jackson's, grabbed his chin and dragged his mouth open to go for it. Tongue and spit and the shocked little gurgles in Jackson's throat. His eyes were wide open, but he let Danny have him. Let him have his tongue and his mouth and his lips. His own hand went to Danny's hip then Danny's shoulder as if he was looking where to put it and Danny helped him out there and placed it square on his crotch.

He waited for Jackson to shrink back, gaggling off towards the chicken bit of gay chicken, but he kept his mouth open like an obedient little puppy and let Danny take what he wanted.

When Danny pulled away, Jackson's lips and chin wet with their spit, Jackson didn't pull his hand from Danny's crotch but left it there, fingers loosely clasped around Danny's cock.

Danny counted the seconds and got to fifteen until the mask slipped back into place, and the watery wide eyes and broken little head underneath got covered with the smug little smile as he brought his hand to his own crotch and squeezed at it.

"I told you I was everyone's type," Jackson said, and laughed, easy and nice as he flung himself back on the bed of the pick-up. "I could use a blowjob," he added and undid his jeans, shoved them down his crotch. "You types like this, don't you?"

Danny just shook his head and stared out at the field, grinning, sneaking glances every now and then as Jackson wanked next to him, putting on a show. This Jackson he could handle. Easy.


End file.
